Through the eyes of a demon
by Your Guardian Demon
Summary: Sebastian is a demon tormented by his past. He's loved and lost. He's been hated and abused. He's gone absolutely insane. Rated T for self-harm and violence. One-shot for now...


_**Nathaniel Arthland is what I have decided Sebastian's human name should be. Just to clear up any confusion. Hope you guys enjoy! please R&R! Sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, I'll try to clear those up later. Oh, and I'm running out of ideas for stories, so what you all need to do is go into that magical review box, type in what you want my next story to be, and then murder the post button with clicks. I could easily turn this into a multi-chap, but I will only do so if I get loads of reviews.**_

_**With that being said, READ!**_

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Many people do not ask me about my past, and quite frankly I hate talking about it. Ah, but my young master is ever so curious about it. I'm afraid that I had to lie to him and say I don't remember a thing about it. That is a lie because I remember my past vividly. It still haunts me to this day, over half a millenium later.

I'm so tired of dwelling on something so pointless. I just can't seem to let it go. Maybe I'm still a little human after all.

So in an attempt to move on, I will write down my past and then try to forget about it. I've heard of humans doing things like this and being quite successful with it, so maybe it will work for a demon like myself.

This is my past as a human, who knew human emotions, and let them control my life.

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My name was Nathaniel Arthland. I was born in England on October 18, 1332, to Alice and Andrew Arthland. I was the third eldest of my four sisters and three brothers, but most hated by everyone. To this day i never understood why everyone, even my own family, hated me so. My parents never loved me or even cared about me in the slightest. In fact, I think the only reason they kept me in the house was so that I could do all the farm work and chores. Maybe they were somehow able to pick up on what I was to become.

Either way, I was a very quiet and distant child. I was obedient and respectful to my superiors, but I rarely talked unless someone spoke to me first, which didn't happen often. The other children of my village were wary of me, and never included me in their activities. Most tried to avoid me entirely, while others went out of their way to bully me.

My parents never cared about where I was or when I got home. Sometimes I would leave the house for days at a time and they never noticed. I typically played in the forest near my village with an old stuffed cat that I cherished. (I still have that cat to this day.) Sometimes I would bring bread crumbs to feed to crows and ravens that nested in the woods. I seemed to share a special bond with the birds, and once I even brought one home, hoping to keep it as a pet. However, crows or ravens were considered to be bad luck, as they were thought to be symbols of the devil. My parents killed the bird and fed it to our dog. They punished me as well, not allowing me out of the house or near a crumb of food for days.

I eventually became learned in letters and numbers, and soon I was craving literature as a result. The other children of my village, who rarely, if ever read, thought me to be an evil sorcerer of sorts. All children who are able to read are required to read the Bible, but I found it rather distastful. I was never a religious person. I never had a close relationship with god. I doubt I ever had anything more than a faint belief in him at most. From what I read, he seemed to be an arrogant, power-hungry and judgemental ego-maniac. Wrathful instead of loving, vengeful instead of forgiving. Not at all the humble being he claimed to be.

I became fascinated with demons and the Devil Lucifer. They actually gave people what they wanted, instead of offering vague advice or making them slave in farm fields for survival. I actually began to admire Lucifer over God. I never voiced these thoughts out loud. I wasn't a fool. I knew there would be severe punishments for speaking out against the Church of England.

When I was fifteen, I met and fell in love with a woman my age named Amelia Anne. She had a beautiful face, with a small nose and big eyes the color of a blue moon. Her raven black hair cascaded down her back in waves that shone with a bluish tint in the sunlight. She was a kind soul, but she was trapped in a crushing depression. She never judged me like all the other villagers did. I always thought that I never needed a companionship of any kind. I was a closed off being, who made it okay without any friends. Amelia proved me wrong. It felt so good to be able to voice my thoughts and opinions without fear or punishments. We saved each other. She restored my faith in life, and I brought her up out of the pit her depression had sunk her in.

We were best friends. I proposed marriage to her, to which she happily accepted. And so it was that against her parent's wishes, we were married in the spring of the year 1348. For the first and only time in my life, I was truly happy. Amelia soon found herself with child, and I admit I wept with joy at the news. She would spend days at a time sewing and knitting clothes and toys, and I would work any job I could find to pay for us.

The black plaque began to sweep the nation shortly after our marriage. Both of my parents, along with two of my sisters and two of my brothers perished in the outbreak. I attended their funerals, but only because it would have been considered unorthodox not to attend. Amelia fell ill as well. She and her unborn child both managed to recover from the disease, though it left Amelia greatly weakened. As a result, she gave birth a month early and died during the delivery. She was seventeen years of age. I named her child Raven. I loved her right away. Being born a month early, Raven struggled. I gave her the best care I possibly could, but she too eventually succumbed to the black death, and left this world to join her mother.

I had lost _everything._ I spiraled into a depression deeper than Ameila's had ever been. Just her name brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to _die._ Anything to escape the pain of life. I wanted to be with my beautiful wife again. I wanted to hold my child and sing her to sleep in my arms. But I couldn't. And I never could again. I became a drunkard, trying to drown my pain in alcohol. The beer deadened the pain, but it was still there. I couldn't stand the emotional pain, so I tried to replace it with physical pain. I would carve Amelia's and Raven's names alongside my own into my skin. I branded her favorite locket over my heart. Nothing ever worked. The pain was still there. It never left because I could never forget and move on.

The plaque passed and I was one of the few who still lived. My sadness at Amelia's death turned to anger. I felt anger towards her for leaving me so suddenly. Why did she have to die when we were about to have it all? More than I was angry at her, I was angry at god. Why did he leave me alive? Why couldn't he have just taken me the same way he took millions of others? God, the vulture who destroyed my family. Did he enjoy seeing me in pain? Was he laughing at the tears I shed every night? Did I amuse him by spilling my own blood in the name of relief? I was sure he hated me just as much as I hated him.

Almost a year after Amelia's death, I attempted suicide by hanging myself in the woods where I played as a child. It was then that I met Delilah, a strawberry blonde with incredible green eyes. I had been swinging by my neck for only a few minutes. I could already tell I was about to die, and I was happy. Delilah walked into the clearing where I hung and screamed. She knew I wasn't a criminal, because they were hung in the village's square. She rushed over and climbed the tree where I hung from, unearthed a pocket knife, and sliced my unconscious form down.

I was initially angry at Delilah for saving me. Why did she even bother? Everyone in the village knew what a mess I was. They all would have been relieved at my death. Slowly, my anger turned to gratitude as I grew to know Delilah. In some ways, she was just as broken as I was. Delilah was pregnant during the black death outbreak. She fell ill and passed the disease to her husband, who died from it. She recovered from the disease, but her child miscarried as a result. Yes, she suffered like I had, but she handled it differently. While I prayed for death, she prayed for strength. When I turned to beer, she turned to god.

We grew very close, and she confessed to a very passionate love for me. Though I didn't feel the same way about her, we married. By the time I was twenty, we were caring for a infant of our very own. The child was a girl, and I insisted on naming her Amelia. I still loved her, more than I ever would Delilah.

I should have been happy, right? I was far from it. Ever since my Amelia's death, there had been an anger and hatred that I just couldn't give up. It festered with everyday that passed. I grew to hate my family with a burning passion. Delilah, the woman who would never replace my wife, no matter how hard she tried. Amelia, who wasn't Raven. She was my child, but I hated her. They weren't my family, they were just poor replacements for the one I almost had.

So I killed them when I was twenty-two.

Why should I bother wasting my time on a family I didn't want? I rather enjoyed killing them. I finally loved Delilah. I loved her with a knife through her head. I loved the feel of her warm blood on my hands. I loved Amelia as I wrung her neck. I found her pitiful screams to be quite beautiful. The sound of her bones cracking was music to my ears. My family died at my own hand, and I was happy. I proudly hung their bodies from the gallows in my village's square.

Needless to say, I was arrested. I went through an unfair trial and was sentenced to burn at the stake. I was happy with my sentence. I was going to die, and nothing was going to stop me. I was going to see my Amelia again. I would hold Raven once more. The people of the village would be glad at my death. They would probably make my death a celebration. They would cheer on the raging flames that burnt my body to ash. They would sing and dance to my screams of pain.

Except I wasn't going to scream in pain. Oh no, I fully planned to hold that stake and laugh while I burned to the ground. I wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. That was for me to enjoy only. I would laugh and sing and cheer with those villagers as I burned, because I was just as happy about my coming death as they were.

On the evening of June sixth, 1354, I was tied to that stake. The flame was started on the dry grass that surrounded me, and my entire body went up in flame. The pain was savaging and blinding. It was an all-consuming pain. There was no escaping it. That's all there was, and all I thought there ever would be: pain. Tortured laughter escaped my throat as I looked up at the blue sky, the only thing that wasn't red. I openly rejected god. I openly rejected the faith. I shouted my rejections, making sure everyone could hear me over the roar of the flames.

Suddenly, the flames surrounding my turned an unnatural, blood red. Shadows danced around me, whispering in an incomprehensible language. A flock of ravens and crows flew in to dance and sing around me. I heard the villagers cheers turn into screams. Then, I felt power. It was an unbelievable, demonic, power. An inhuman roar escaped my throat as my humanity slipped away. Those meaningless emotions such as love and compassion were gone. Nothing remained but anger and hatred and hunger. I hungered for blood, for death. I hungered for souls.

There was an explosion of black feathers as my new form revealed itself. I broke my bindings and walked away from the flames unharmed. A raven flew to me and perched on my shoulder, crying out its chilling call for death. Every human in the village lost their life and their soul to me that day. I didn't care about them anymore. I didn't care about Amelia or Raven. They were just silly humans, like I used to be.

Not anymore. I was an immortal demon with unimaginable power. I suddenly understood the whispers that surrounded me.

_"Welcome to our Legion."_

I am Nathaniel Arthland. I've gone by other names, such as Saul Rein or Sebastian Michaelis, but I am a demon, and that will never, ever change.

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_**Meh. not my best story, but I thought Sebby needed more backround, and this is what I came up with. My friend said it was good, and my friend is always right xD. Please Review!**_

_**Oh, and I would like to thank Lucy Phantomhive and Promocat for being such awesome followers. You guys rock, and thanks for all your reviews!**_


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